


Obelisk

by tysunkete (aozu)



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - Inception Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 01:57:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13156755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aozu/pseuds/tysunkete
Summary: Inception inspired AU.They created their own dreams to escape reality, but through escapism they found each other. “Ano saa…what if this isn’t a just dream?”





	Obelisk

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted: 11/06/2011.

Walking down the streets at the start of summer, a messily styled red haired teenaged boy yawned, rubbing his one good eye that was not hidden beneath an eyepatch. It had been a rather busy day at the library since the summer holidays were beginning and students were already searching for books for the holiday read. He was only nineteen years old, but he had finished college way earlier than his average peers, and chose to assist his grandfather in maintaining the library.

He always felt more comforted with the presence of books. He loved the stories the hidden treasures could weave, and the little secrets kept in each line of written page. It was ink on paper, but not merely so.

It brought things back to life.

 _History_ came to life.

He used to dream about the wars. Conquerors, set out on their own ambitions to take on the world. It was the world against them, yet they preserved till the very end, each believing in their own cause. During the nights he would see the blood torn weary men on the battlefield fighting proud with honour, he could feel the hopelesses, the despair, the determination of these mere humans who fought, leaving their name in history. He didn’t understand why, but there was something about these wars that he could identify with.

It was as if he had been through one before, yet it also felt like he had watched through the same one. Like a third person, an outsider, but also a warrior, a soldier.

A strange feeling.

He had been fascinated with all of it ever since he could remember.

But most of all was the great war of the 19th century of the Vatican church. Curiously, it was also the war that he knew the least about. There wasn’t much recorded for many of the records were missing, torn or burned, but after pouring through the entire collection that Bookman stored in the restricted section, he found pieces of the unsolved puzzle, all written in different languages that not of all he himself could translate. They ranged from English to Hebrew to even an Asian language—one that he could not understand. Unfortunately most of the writings were in this mysterious word, and which he guessed were the texts which contained the main information he so badly wanted to know.

Even more curious, the pieces of texts were always signed off with a particular scrawl.

ラビ

Even if he couldn’t understand it, he vaguely pieced together what he did know. The Church seemed like it was fighting against a great enemy of powers unrivalled, and there were talk about demons taking advantage of human souls. A certain group that called themselves _Noah_ —perhaps a direct descent of line from the time of the _Great Flood_ —sought to cleanse the world of sin, yet an opposing group from the Church held on to their belief of God and battled…but no one knew who was right and who was wrong.

There was a great chunk of information missing that should have chronicled the progress of the war, but all he could glimpse was that the war eventually ended when the Destroyer of Time broke the flow of life…of time…

And the world restarted.

He always stared at those four mysterious words at the bottom of the age old yellow tinged paper. It felt like they said so much, just too little for him to grasp. There was nothing else about it mentioned in the rest of the texts, as though the church had purposely cleaned out its own history.

He tried then, to make his own.

He thought.

He daydreamed.

He mused.

He imagined.

What perhaps really could have happened?

He thought over all the possible theories.

Maybe the church had experimented on something—someone—and had to cover all of its ugly history into the deepest depths of the ocean…but it only backfired and caused the final war. Or perhaps they two sides were battling for something unseen, spiritual, but necessary and important…only neither knew why they were doing so.

What about the Destroyer of Time?

Sometimes he’d think it had to be a boy…and young boy of merely age fifteen. With the purest eyes anyone had ever seen, yet clouded with so much darkness but also embraced by the light. A fitting hero to the tragic end.

But all of it was just his imagination.

It wasn’t enough. He had to see it, feel it, _be_ it—and so he created his own history.

He _dreamed_.

Using the Portable Automated Somnacin Intravenous (PASIV) device was common in the day. It had started off as a cure for dream therapy thirty years ago—and no one had ever looked back since. He knew the theory behind it. How this device could help him create and construct anything he wanted, and it would feel more real than just his regular dreams. He would have control over them, twisting it, manipulating it, writing it.

Writing history.

He had seen Bookman use the device countless times secretly—but Bookman forbade him from any usage, because the old man insisted history was only _ink on paper_.

He didn’t need to get attached to it.

But still, the longing grew deeper and deeper until he could stand it no more. He was curious, naturally curious, and it drove the need to experience till he nearly went insane.

It was just one normal night when he was up trying to figure out what that dammed language was on the mysterious text when an idea popped into his head. He could just try and see for himself. Just once. Bookman was out of town, and no one else would ever have to know.

He sat himself down on the large squishy reclining chair in that secluded room right at the back of storeroom of the library and stared at the many vials and buttons of the PASIV device. The shiny metallic four knobs in the middle were connecting to various tubings. He had obeyed Bookman’s orders to keep away from the device, and thus he actually didn’t know how to use it.

But he had witnessed the old man plugging himself into a dream before, and he remembered the first step was to fill the vials. So he just pressed the white buttons till the vials were filled to the brim. The PASIV LED screen beeped, and he guessed he was ready. Taking the injection IV, he placed it over a visible vein in his arm…and pressed.

The first thing that registered was the smell of old musky paper. Opening his eyes, he found himself standing in the middle of his library, between shelves and shelves of books. He blinked. Didn’t he just plug himself in? Then why did this feel so…real?

He pulled out a book from the shelf in front of him and ran his palm over the rough edge.

He wasn’t dreaming.

This was real. He could see, smell, breathe, feel… _touch_.

Yet, there was something incredibly different.

He felt like he was the only one living. Like he was the only one who mattered in this entire universe…like he had control, some sort of newfound _power_.

Slowly he walked down the aisle of his library, smiling at the familiar rows and rows and rows of books…until he realised he had been walking for minutes and yet the aisle kept stretching on and on and on. A thought struck his mind, and he started to run. He ran forward, with just one single thought in his mind.

_Don’t let it stop._

It didn’t.

And then he stopped running, panting and breathing heavily, but he knew. He knew he was dreaming. He had to be. It was because he had wished this before. He always wanted to have a never ending range of information to satisfy his insatiable thirst for knowledge. And this dream scape reflected that.

Once he knew, there was no going back.

The first few tries were experiments. He knew all of this by theory, that anything that he created in his mind—imagined, visioned, all of it could come to life by just thinking about it.

He would be sitting at the edge of the cliff, watching a battle below him unfold.

Dark skinned people with a line of crosses on their heads fighting against uniform clad soldiers. And the Destroyer of Time—the young boy, would be wielding a sword just as big as him, battling back with his life on the line. Perhaps he’d give the boy some comrades, maybe a tough strong willed girl, and another soldier who fought flawlessly with a sword.

He didn’t know how long he had been creating, watching, seeing, feeling, _being_ —perhaps hours, days, weeks, months… _years_ …

When he felt himself falling and suddenly jerked up, spluttering with his entire body drenched in ice cold water.

“….Old man?” was the first thing he croaked out when his vision focused on the familiar form of his grandfather.

The next thing he remembered was pain—Bookman had slapped him across the face, hard.

“You stupid idiot! What were you thinking? You could’ve gotten stuck in limbo!” his guardian shouted furiously at him, aiming another hit at him.

He had filled the Somnacin vial with too much drug. He had been dreaming for two days straight.

But he was too dazed to register that he nearly could have gotten himself killed. Everything just seemed to utterly dull in contrast now. The wooden floorboards beneath him, the crammed small space of the room and even the cobwebs at the corner of the ceiling…it was nothing like feeling the wind on his skin, the ferocity of the fights he witnessed as he sat at the edge of the stone cold cliff observing.

His normal sleep dreams didn’t satisfy him anymore. They didn’t flow like he wanted to, and he always woke up at the wrong parts. They weren’t real.

Not real enough.

He missed the screams of charged battle cry, the fluidity of the fights, and the feel of the battle rush. What about the endless dark skies he had gazed into, under which a beautiful dark tower lay? Or the bright round moon that reflected quietly in the lake, full of unsaid promises and mystery of this 19th century war?

But Bookman didn’t allow him to touch the PASIV ever since that day. The old man was afraid he got addicted to dreaming and overdosed himself again, so he had to find release elsewhere.

There was a dream shop located at one of the small corners down the street that he perchanced by one day while running out errands, and he entered without a second thought. An hour later, he emerged, desires satisfied, and he knew he would go back because he had to.

Needed to.

And that was where he was headed today.

“’Sup, Noise,” he grinned boyishly at the owner of the small shop, winking when he pushed open the creaky old door and letting himself in.

The front of the shop was decorated with shelves of colourful chemicals, all of which induced the customer to sleep in varying clarity and length. A large bulky man turned around at the counter, pupiless eyes zeroing straight to the source of the sound.

“Ah, Lavi,” the bulky blind man nodded. “The usual?”

Lavi shrugged, coming forwards to lean on the counter. “Perhaps half the usual,” he replied, smiling. “I’ve only managed to beg an hour off my schedule today.”

Marie smiled knowingly, taking a vial from one of the shelves. It was a clear liquid, only filled to one tenth of the entire glass container. “Come on,”

The red head stuck his hands in his pockets, following the older man who had drawn open a curtain to reveal a much larger room behind.

“Woah, you’re kind of busy today aren’t cha?” he commented, noting that the room was normally half empty at this odd hour.

Every reclining chair that sat next to a PASIV device was taken, with closed eyes and peaceful slumbers all around.

“School holidays,” Marie explained, nodding towards a couple of students in uniform sleeping. “A time to de-stress and all. Anyway, I saved you a space at the back,” he pointed the right hand corner where an empty chair was seen.

“Thanks man,” Lavi grinned, reaching forwards to take the vial of chemical from the older man.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to set you up?” Marie paused, hesitantly handing the vial over.

“Relax,” the red head swatted the hand away. “I haven’t drugged myself all the times I’ve been here right?”

“But your grandfather—“

“I know, it was just a mistake that one time,” he admitted. “Besides, you’ve given me the correct dosage, there’s nothing that could go wrong now.”

Marie gave him one last look before relenting, disappearing back to the counter and letting the curtain fall behind him.

Lavi shook his head, smiling before making way past all the sleeping people to reach his designated seat. He bent down to reach the silver metallic case lying at the side, pressing the two latches on either side of the carrying handle. The case sprung open, a light hissing sound was emitted. Steadily, he inserted the vial he was holding into the last empty cradle, and after a soft click, the LED display illuminated.

Humming happily, he grabbed the correct IV wire and sat himself on the comfy chair, ready to start his daily dosage of dreaming.

That was when he noticed the person lying down on the reclining chair next to him.

It was another customer, he knew that much from how the said person was sleeping so obliviously, attached to an IV. But Lavi ran his one good eye from that distractingly pale arm towards the face, where he saw long lashes, high cheekbones, fair even under the dim light of the room…long raven hair cascading down to the shoulders, plump lips parted and breathing rhythmically.

 _Beautiful_.

Then he noticed the lack of chest—because this _guy_ was wearing a loose tank top…with strange markings on his shoulder. Still, he did not stop staring at the way that beautiful, oriental face slept on with such a peaceful expression—one of serenity and it just felt entirely out of the world.

For reasons unknown he felt himself being attracted—perhaps that was not the right word, but _curiously_ attracted to this unknown stranger. There was something disturbingly familiar yet strange about the whole situation, but that was weird in itself, because he was sure he had never met whoever this was before in his life.

But it wasn’t much of his business right? So he stepped back to his own chair and lay in it, hand gripping his IV and placing over his arm, ready to start. The person beside him shifted suddenly and he jumped in shock, all attention falling again on the sleeping beauty.

Now, a very slight curve was upon the other’s lips, body turned to face him directly. And Lavi started to wonder so badly what was it that made this raven _smile—_

So he did the only thing curiosity always drove him to do.

He plugged himself into that person’s dream.

* * *

“Mugen, _Sangenshiki_ ,” he hissed lowly, running his second and third finger down the blade of his deadly sword.

A warm wave of energy burst forth from his body, wrapping his form in its blue light, and he felt his muscles strengthen with additional power. His sword was pulsating in response, in tandem together with his heartbeat, and he gripped it tighter, a dark smirk crawling up the edge of his lips.

A deformed creature in front of him stared back tauntingly, an evil expression twisted into its features.

“Nothing you do will save you, exorcist!” it sang, a sharp bloodcurling pitch vibrating through the air.

He only grinned darker, pupils dilating.

For two seconds, the creature and him froze in time until he leapt and charged forward, swinging his sword into a familiar stance in preparation for his fight. The creature immediately whirled, aiming what seemed like two guns back at him, firing relentlessly.

“Die, exorcist!”

He dodged the bullets with an almost practiced ease, never breaking in his stride as he lunged forwards, shifting his grip on the hilt of his sword. A bullet grazed his cheek, but that was nothing compared to his attack. Once the creature was within his sword range, he slashed forwards, relishing the feeling of his blade slide easily into the flesh of the demon before he expertly executed two more strokes—one to behead, and the other to thrust though the heart of the beast.

The creature spasmed, a black liquid spilling out from his wounds, and he pulled his sword out of its body quickly, flicking the blood unto the floor leaving it to crumple uselessly on the ground. Without a word he sheathed his sword, turning away to saunter off.

A few seconds later, an explosion was heard behind him and he muttered to himself as if for the final word. “ _Bakuhakuzan_.”

Kanda gazed up into the sky and sighed.

That was certainly a good stress reliever, he mused, a more relaxed expression donning his features and he walked forwards, avoiding the spots of sand that he created fighting with these akumas. He could fight a few more before his time ran up and he had to wake up.

He was addicted to it all. The killing, the bloodlust, the _adrenaline_.

It was the dangerous way of life that was in his _blood_. As the son of a yakuza head, he had been trained to be deadly, ruthless, cold-blooded. Killing wasn’t an option—it was part of daily life. A tattoo was branded upon his chest to remind him of that fact.

But at ten years old, he knew it wasn’t the right way to live.

After a brutal clash with the police, he ended up with a retired officer Froi Tiedoll who took him in. He didn’t get the details as to why he was spared, but he didn’t really care. At first he couldn’t adjust to the new life. Being _normal_ wasn’t normal for him, but slowly he learnt and went to school like a regular kid.

No killing.

Then he started getting restless. He couldn’t sit still and read a book all day—he had to _move_ , do something. That was when he decided to take up Kendo to waste the extra energy.

But the curse upon him was much stronger than he realized, and countless times he woke up screaming to kill something—someone, until Tiedoll forced him to undergo dream therapy to solve his urges once and for all.

He didn’t know why, but the very first time that he was plugged into the machine, he found himself standing on a war torn battle field, the stench of blood and destruction so thick in the air that he nearly got dizzy. He was wearing a leather enforced uniform, a sword in his hand—and all of it just felt so _right_.

Then some stupid thing tried to kill him, and he fought back mindlessly—taking out his frustration and anger and stress on whatever it was…and he realised he had killed some weird thing that faded into sand after dying. Well. It wasn’t human, so he was able to kill whatever it was, and that thought was fine with him.

He didn’t question his own mind much, and anyway it was so much better than practicing his katas at home, so he frequently went back and battled these creatures for a challenge.

“Yo!”

Kanda paused, whipping around at the sound.

A boy who looked roughly the same age as him was waving enthusiastically back at him, an eyepatch over one eye. The crop of messy red hair did nothing to impress him—neither did that green eye or the irritating wide grin the other had on.

Perhaps his own mind had to be screwed up in some way if one of his projections were this annoying. It was odd too, because his projections never really talked to him, but then again, all the akumas had cursed him to die some way or another…

And since the akumas had taken up human form before, without much thought he drew his sword, holding it to his lips.

Well, his mind sure knew he needed one more fight.

“Mugen, unsheathe,” he whispered darkly, running the two fingers down the blade. “Innocence, activate.”

His sword glowed as per commanded, and he advanced towards the stupid looking projection predatorily.

“U-um, hello?” The red head had paused, now looking unsure and colour steadily draining from his face.

 _Fear_.

Kanda only smirked darker. Well, serves the stupid akuma right. He brought the blade to the gattotsu stance, and thrust forward right into the chest of his enemy.

“He—“ the projection stopped in mid-speech, eye going uncharacterically wide before it coughed out blood. “….Y-y—“ it was clawing frantically at the area where Mugen had pierced him, mouth opened in some sort of strangled scream. “Y—y—“

Strange, Kanda thought, since all the akumas he fought transformed back to its original form when stabbed, and they certainly put up more of a fight than his one. He frowned, looking down at his black boots that was steadily being covered by some kind of red substance flowing from the projection he stabbed.

 _Red_.

Red, not black.

Kanda’s eyes widened when he felt something probing his mind…this wasn’t a persona his subconscious generated. It was real person.

“Y-yu—“

He watched as the red headed boy slumped on his sword without a single further utterance, eyes closed.

Dead.

“ _Kuso_!” Kanda yanked his sword out of the not-projection’s body violently, grimacing at the red streaks left on his blade. “Fuck,” he repeated, angrily, the anger he had worked out all before steadily building up again. “Goddamn it, _fuck_!”

By right he still had maybe half an hour more in dream verse to go. The somnacin had been set for twenty minutes in the real world, it had just been a quick stress reliever for him, giving maybe about two hours in dream verse to fight as much as he wanted.

“Fuck.”

He glanced at the dead body at his feet and cursed once more. He had to find out who was the fucking _idiot_ who dared intrude in his dream.

Taking a deep breath, he clenched his jaw and plunged his sword straight through his heart.

* * *

“Haah…hahh…”

Lavi breathed heavily, hands shaking and single eye wide in panic. He couldn’t breathe, and he grabbed the arm rests of his chair with a death grip, trying so hard to come to reality. He just felt a freaking _blade_ cut through his body—and it was so excruciatingly painful that he wanted to scream; only he couldn’t find his voice to.

It wasn’t real right?

It wasn’t.

Unsteadily in frantic movements he fumbled for his pocket, trying to find whatever he was supposed to find, and nearly hyperventilated when his hands came out with nothing. In panic he swept his eyes across the still silent room, until his gaze rested back upon his trembling hands and he spotted it on his wrist.

His totem.

Of course, he always wore it around his wrist anyway, and he nearly slapped himself for stupidity. Quickly he tugged it off—it was a simple white stretchy hair tie that never seemed to lose its elasticity. He couldn’t remember where he found it, but when he did, it just became something he relied upon heavily.

He stretched the band as hard as he could, and only breathed a sigh of relief when the band stopped stretching after elongating to 13 centimeters. In dream verse, the hair tie would stretch and stretch and stretch infinitely, but in reality, anymore than 13 and it would snap.

Good. He didn’t die. He was alive.

“ _Kisama_ …”

He jerked quite violently when a low growl emitted from his left, and his heart practically stopped beating when he realised the person who had mercilessly stabbed him in the dream was glaring at him with a look so dark, a chill settled in his lower gut.

 _“KISAMA, NANI YATTENDA BAKAYAROU_?!”

Lavi kept his jaw clamped shut as the other boy yelled furiously at him, yanking the IV out of his arm and grabbed his collar. He whimpered at the pure intent to murder his ass right there and then in the other’s cobalt blue eyes that pierced his very being.

 _“NANI—CHE_ ,” his attacker spat, suddenly realizing he was rattling off in another language before switching to English with the same intensity of anger. “WHAT THE _FUCK_ WERE YOU TRYING TO DO YOU STUPID ASSHOLE?”

“Um, I…” he stuttered, words failing his normally loose tongue.

But despite this all, he was greatly captivated by how the other’s eyes were staring right back at him, and the colour was quite familiar. Perhaps he had seen it in some of his customers at the library before?

“What’s the problem in here?” Marie interrupted before the other made another move. “Kanda! Release him!”

This _Kanda_ dropped him like a stack of potatoes and glared at the owner of the shop. “He… _he_ …” Kanda spat like he couldn’t believe anyone couldn’t done something so direly stupid. “He fucking went into my dream!”

The disapproving eyes of the ironically blind man turned to Lavi.

“Is this true?”

“Er…yes?” Lavi admitted bashfully. “But I was just curious! ‘Cause he looked…he looked…” he trailed off there, because he knew any reason that he was going to say would probably make him sound like a pervert or even stupider to this new beautiful stranger he just angered.

“You should’ve have done that,” Marie sighed, bending down to take off the IV from Lavi’s arm which he forgot in all the distress. “It’s dangerous, especially if you don’t know the nature of their dreams. And if Kanda here had an aggressive subconscious—“ _which he does_ , Marie wanted to add. “You could have been killed mercilessly by any one of his projections.”

“Which I was!” Lavi cried, clutching at his chest where he got ran through by a sword.

“No,” Kanda crossed his arms impatiently, snorting. “ _I_ killed you, stupid.”

 Marie shot him a look.

“What?” The long haired man scoffed in response. “I thought he was a fucking _akuma_.”

“A…akoomah?” Lavi tilted his head in confusion, not familiar with the new word.

“Fuck this, I’m leaving this damn joint,” Kanda grumbled, mood lapsing into irritation. He glared at Lavi once more for good measure before storming off. “God fuck you to hell.”

“Is he…always like that?” Lavi managed after staring at the retreating back of the other boy.

“Upright and vulgar?” Marie responded non-pulsed, apparently used to Kanda’s behavior. “Yes. But you really shouldn’t have done that. Kanda’s mellowed a lot since I knew him, and the kid’s got a dark past. You don’t really want to bother him for your own safety.”

Lavi wasn’t really listening, because something the other said caught his attention.

“ _Ka-n...da_ ,” he tried on his tongue, rolling the word. It sounded foreign. “Kanda. What’s his full name?”

“Kanda Yuu.”

 _Yuu_.

“I’ve never heard of a name like that,” Lavi commented, frowning.

“He’s Japanese,” Marie explained, carefully keeping the PASIV device into the metallic case which Kanda had unceremoniously left open. “It’s rare, but he’s a pureblooded one in this region as well.”

“Japanese…” Lavi repeated under his breath. No wonder he couldn’t understand what Kanda had been yelling at him in the beginning.  “That explains how pretty he is…” he mumbled more to himself, and if Marie heard the odd comment, he chose not to grace it. “Is _a-koo-mah_ a Japanese word too?” he asked.

“Perhaps,” Marie shrugged, now turning to him. “You still have fifteen minutes if you want to dream.”

Lavi nodded, settling back into his chair as he let Marie shuffle the vials about, and within a minute he felt the familiar prick on his skin.

He breathed in deeply before opening his eyes to begin.

But all he had was a million of Kanda Yuu projections looking back at him.

* * *

“Hey, Yuu!”

Kanda continued to walk quickly, ignoring the shouts that were coming from behind him.

“YUUUUUUU!!!!”

No, whoever it was definitely wasn’t calling him, because only a few people actually knew his first name.

“OI YUU!”

Perhaps they were calling _oi, you_ , but he wasn’t too sure either way.

“YUU! HEY YUU THERE~”

Now _that_ made him snap. He whirled around angrily, screaming, “WHAT THE FUCK?”

A cheeky grin, mischievous green eye, tousled red hair—he was starting to get pissed from just looking at this person jumping excitedly in front of him.

“Hey, Yuu! I called you from all the way back there but you didn’t respond!”

“Who the fuck are you?” Kanda demanded, patience wearing thin as he grabbed the red head’s collar harshly. “And why the fuck are you calling me by my first name?”

“You’re Kanda Yuu right?” The redhead only grinned wider. “I’m Lavi. Lavi Bookman. I work at the local library—“

Something about that infuriating smile clicked in Kanda’s mind. “ _Kisama._ _You_. You’re that fucking idiot who screwed up my dream two days ago!”

“Nice to meet cha!” Lavi tried to untangle the death grip Kanda had on his collar. “Look, I’m really sorry about that—“

Kanda snorted, pushing him away and was already walking away.

“Yuu!”

Oh god he wasn’t leaving.

“YUU! YUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU~~~”

“ _URUSAI BAKAYAROU!”_ Kanda practically screamed at him, fuming. “STOP USING MY GODDAMN NAME!”

The entire street stopped to stare at both of them, and Kanda gritted his teeth, a headache building up already. “Mind your own goddamn business!” he hissed to whoever that kept looking, and on lookers quickly scuttled away.

“Look, Yuu,” Lavi smiled, stepping forwards because he knew he had finally caught the attention of the other. “I promise to leave you alone if you help me.”

“Why should I help you when you fucked up my dream?” Kanda demanded back, clenching his fist. “And stop saying my first name or else I will fucking make sure I will run a sword through you—“ his cobalt eyes glinted dangerously. “And it will _not_ be a fucking dream.”

Lavi audibly gulped, but he was here on a mission.

Ever since two days ago wherein he managed to meet this mysterious long haired man at the dream shop, he couldn’t get the image of the said person out of his mind. He was going crazy, he knew it. It was infuriatingly annoying. Other than the fact that this _Kanda Yuu_ was physically attractive even when the other was screaming at him—he couldn’t help but repeat one word over and over again.

_Yuu._

It was like he had heard it somewhere before. Or maybe he had said it sometime before. It just felt too natural rolling off his tongue even though he had ever said a word of Japanese in his life.

And the Japanese part was curious too.

The race was rare in this region, and the language even rarer. Japan had closed itself off to the whole world and much of its culture was hidden from the world. He didn’t know how to speak Japanese despite learning a ton of different languages that included Asian ones—and suddenly it just clicked in his mind that the texts...

The mysterious texts he had been trying so hard to decipher were in this curious language as well.

At first he had pinned the words written on the papers to be Chinese—but there were other unfamiliar characters written that were vastly different. There was a very huge chance that the language written had to be Japanese. It just _had_ to.

It was almost like a lost language.

Much like how the information in the texts was lost too.

But not anymore.

Lavi had went back to the dream shop in hopes of finding Kanda again, but the raven never appeared all the time he was there waiting. Marie suggested he try roaming a particular street nearby, saying that Kanda usually walked that path, and finally after standing like a lost kid in the middle of the street, he caught a glimpse of long black luxurious hair tied up that could only belong to one person.

“You’re Japanese right?” Lavi found himself saying to Kanda. “I was wondering if you could help me translate something.”

Kanda eyed him blankly. “I am not some goddamn library worker. Do it yourself.”

Without a further word, the Japanese turned heel and strode away.

“Yuu!” Lavi called again, frowning to himself.

“Fuck you,  _ahou_!” was the only echoing reply he got back.

Well. That didn’t go as planned.

* * *

“Oh hell no.”

Kanda knew meeting an idiot was one way to screw up his life. God certainly must hate him so, because that shade of flaming red hair could only belong to one goddamn irritating _stalker_ that had been hounding him for days. And to think the only day wherein this stalker wasn’t stalking him…he had to meet him at the library.

“Yuu!” that face brightened up immediately like it saw candy.

The Japanese cursed, regretting that he even stepped into this godforsaken place. How could he have forgotten?

“So, what brings you here buddy?” Lavi continued happily, leaning on the counter. “Never took you to be a bookworm, Yuu.”

“Stop using my first name!” Kanda gritted out, banging his fist on the counter.

“Shh, you’re in a library,” the redhead grinned, putting a finger to his lips. “Relax man, I ain’t following you around today. I’ve got work to do,” he gestured to the general vicinity. “So what can I help you with?”

Reluctantly, Kanda dug into his jeans for a slip of paper and shoved it towards him. “I need this,” he stated shortly.

Lavi raised an eyebrow and took the paper, bringing it closer to see what was printed on it. It was a booklist of novels he had all read before.

“You’re in college?” he asked offhandedly, eye noting the words _summer reading list_ at the top of the paper.

“What’s it to you?” Kanda spat back, tapping the table impatiently. “Just give those books to me and I’ll be going.”

“Hmm, a lit major eh?” Lavi continued, ignoring the Japanese.

He hopped off the high stool he was sitting at the counter and headed towards the fiction section, gesturing the other to follow him.

“Say,” he began when he stopped at a shelf, reaching towards the third shelf and pulling out a correct book. “Why don’t you teach me some Japanese?”

“Are you fucking retarded?” Kanda shot back in response.

“Come on, Yu—“ Lavi dropped the book he was holding when he found himself slammed against the bookshelf with one pissed off Japanese. “—Kanda,” he finished off, smiling weakly.

Kanda snorted, releasing the painful grip he had on the other’s shoulder. “Che.”

“But I was serious about that,” the redhead rubbed his shoulder, wincing. “Please?”

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“No.”

“With cherry on top? Plus chocolate sauce and whipped cream and—“

“ _Urusai, baka usagi!”_ Kanda snapped, glaring. “Why are you so intent on this anyway?”

“Because I _need_ to know!” Lavi whined, practically begging the older male. “I’ve told you this a million times already! I’ve been trying to understand what those texts say for years and you are my only _savior_ in this aspect!” he went on. “I’ve been _dreaming_ for this—this Holy war and I’m so close to the real answer! It’s Yuu!”

“If you ever use my first name like that again,” Kanda breathed dangerously, “I will _cut_ you.”

“Okay, okay,” the redhead held his hands up in surrender when the glare on him intensified. “So, _Kanda_ ,” he even used the proper title the other so clearly preferred. “What do you say? You teach me, I’ll do anything you want.”

The Japanese didn’t even need to consider. “ _No_.”

“Why?” Lavi whined again. “I’m even offering my _life_ to you—“

“Because,” Kanda interrupted him calmly. “It’s easier to teach a rock than to teach an idiot like you. _Baka_.”

Lavi pouted, offended that his _intelligence_ had been insulted. “You know what? I won’t find these books for you.” He slapped the slip of paper against the other’s decidedly muscular chest. “And I’ll bug you all the way as you find these books which are scattered all over this _huge_ library—and I’ll even sing the song that goes on and on and on and on—“

“ _Urusai!”_

“I don’t even know what you just said!”

“ _U_ —Shut the fuck up!”

“Only if you teach me!”

“I said no, _baka usagi_!”

“I know a song that gets on everyone's nerves, everyone's nerves, everyone's nerves. I know a song that gets on everyone's nerves, and this is how it goes—“

“ _Usa_ —“

“—I know a song that gets on your nerves, gets on your nerves, gets on your nerves. I know a song that gets on your nerves and this is how it goes. I know a song that's very annoying, very annoying, very annoying. I know a song that's very annoying and this is how it—“

“FINE!” Kanda roared finally, unable to take the abuse that is against his ears. “ _DAMATTE_! SHUT THE HELL UP ALREADY!”

Lavi beamed, jumping up and crushing the other in a hug. “YES!” he pumped a fist enthusiastically in the air, not caring if he was screaming at the top of his lungs as he did so. “I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!”

Someone cleared his throat loudly and both of them turned to see Bookman raising an eyebrow at them both.

“What are you doing hugging the boy, idiot apprentice?” The old man asked, clearly not amused at how both of them had been generating a lot of noise for the past few minutes.

Lavi paused, realizing that he did have his arms wrapped around Kanda’s neck while the other was trying to shove him off—and the moment just felt _right_ for a split second—then he promptly dropped the embrace in embarrassment.

Right. Shouldn’t have done that.

Clearly the Japanese boy thought so too, for his face was flushed, and his fists were clenched tightly.

“If you’re going to continue whatever you were doing,” Bookman continued, snorting as he walked away. “Take it outside. Or to a room.”

Lavi blushed furiously at what he thought his grandpa had been insinuating—god, did he just hear what he think he heard?—and clearly his throat awkwardly when Kanda just radiated anger beside him.

He turned to the other uncertainly.

“Er Yuu—”

“One more time, I will gut your throat,” Kanda snapped back immediately, but the tinge of mortified pink hadn’t left his face either.

* * *

“So…when do you want to come over to my place?”

Kanda cursed the ground, the sky, whoever god was, and most of all, he cursed this fucking idiot that would not leave him alone. “Never,” he spat back, gripping his fist tighter.

“But you agreed!” Lavi continued, following the other down the street like a lost puppy.

“I never agreed to go your place,” Kanda stated, trying to brush the red head away.

Lavi paused. “Then…I can come over to yours?” he grinned hopefully.

The Japanese shot him a glare that answered that question. “ _Yamero_! Stop following me around!”

“Not until you teach me some Japanese!” Lavi insisted, dodging people along the street to keep up with the other’s long and fast strides.

Kanda stopped suddenly, whirling around. “Fine,” he breathed heavily. “Your first word. _Baka_.”

“What does that mean?” the red head frowned.

“Idiot,” Kanda muttered, rolling his eyes and pushing open a shop door that he was standing in front of.

Lavi blinked, for a moment before a pout formed on his features. “Yuu…” he whined, but then the other had already disappeared into the shop. The dream shop he frequented. Strange, he hadn’t paid attention to realize where Kanda had been walking to.

Entering it, he spotted Kanda standing at the counter talking with Marie.

“Yuu! How could you leave me behind?” he sobbed dramatically, lunging forwards to glomp the other from the back.

“Get off me!” Kanda groaned, clearly frustrated with what he had to deal with everyday ever since he met the redhead.

“I didn’t think you two had gotten _that_ close,” Marie commented.

“He won’t fucking stop using my first goddamn name!” Kanda hissed in reply, snatching the vial of somnacin Marie was holding. “I’ve got to _kill_ something,” he muttered darkly under his breath, shoving the curtain aside and storming deeper to the sleep stations.

“Yuu~”

“Fuck you!”

Marie shook his head, thankful that the people using the PASIV wouldn’t wake up despite the intense screaming from the duo.

“Lavi, how long are you staying for?” he asked the red head.

“Nah, I’m just accompanying Yuu here,” Lavi replied, grinning.

Kanda who had opened a PASIV device right at the back of the room glowered. “You…you are _not_ fucking coming into my dream,” he stated, eyes narrowing. “You better not, _baka usagi.”_

“But I am, _baka_ Yuu!” the red head sang in reply, bouncing towards the other.

“What the hell did you just call me?”

“ _Baka_. Japanese for idiot, right? See, I’m a fast learner!” Lavi grinned happily, then rubbed his chin. “Though, what is _u-sa-gee_?”

“ _Usagi_ ,” Kanda corrected on impulse, because he cringed at the way the other pronounced it. “Rabbit,” he stated shortly. “Now go away.”

“Rabbit? Aww, you have such a cute nickname for me!”

Kanda almost spluttered and nearly dropped the vial of drug he was holding. “ _Iie_ —what no!”

“Say, are you ready?” Lavi only questioned, already in the reclining chair next to him, hand positioning an IV over his vein.

Kanda had no freaking idea how the hell the redhead managed to distract him and get ready.

“Goddamn it,” he cursed, shoving in the vial in the correct cradle and grabbing another IV that was attached to the PASIV device. “Go get your own!”

“Nope,” the red head grinned cheerfully. “Come on, I’m just going to wait around till you get plugged in first, so I’m coming either way!”

Kanda snarled, a low guttural noise emitting from his throat before he grudgingly inserted his IV.

“See you on the other side!” the red head winked.

Marie just hoped Kanda wouldn’t kill Lavi in dream verse. Again.

* * *

“Wow,” Lavi whispered, staring at the vast scenery before him. “What’s up with this kind of world?”

Kanda brushed past him roughly. “Shut up.”

Truth be told, it wasn’t the first time Lavi was seeing something like this, because he himself had imagined it the same. Destructed collapsed debris of old buildings, old marble gleaming in the moonlight.

It was just that he didn’t think Kanda would dream of something so strikingly similar to his own dreams. The last time he went into Kanda’s dream, he barely had time to register much before he got stabbed, but now he had all the time in the world to marvel and how realistic this battle field they were standing upon looked like.

He glanced towards his companion and blinked, noting that the raven was clad in a leather uniform with tight boots and also a sword strapped to his side.

“You look hot,” he whistled, eyeing the way the other’s form sauntered away from him.

Then a second after that he slapped a hand over his mouth, unable to believe he just let slip such a comment—to a _guy_ nonetheless.

Kanda didn’t seem to hear him, thankfully, but Lavi frowned to himself. It was weird. It was like he had seen Kanda wearing the uniform from somewhere, and he was so sure he had said that line a million times before, but he just couldn’t understand _how_.

 He looked down at himself, and was surprised to see his own body wearing a similar uniform; only he was wearing tight pants and a shirt beneath the leather jacket. “Huh,” he hummed, examining the details that lined the new outfit. Did Kanda dream him in this? Or did his own subconscious do it to match the dreamer?

His finger paused at a shiny metallic badge on his right chest. It was almost like a pointy cross, but decorated more intricately and he frowned harder at it. But before he could lean closer to inspect, a loud clashing noise caught his attention and he spotted Kanda ahead of him facing something that looked humanoid with a purple star on its forehead.

He just watched enraptured as the other unsheathed his sword and charged, striking with the upmost deadliest grace he ever seen. Within seconds, the projection crumbled and faded into sand.

“You like fighting, Yuu?” he commented, stepping closer.

Kanda only graced him with a snort, flicking his blade.

“Exorcists….”

Both of them looked to the side to see another similar creature crawling towards them, and Lavi raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not cut out for this,” he shrugged, backing away. “So I’ll just watch you.”

“Che,” Kanda scoffed. “If you get killed, I’m not going to save you.”

Lavi let his eye trail after Kanda’s retreating back as the other advanced towards the projection with his sword drawn and ready. Then he realised something was off about Kanda’s last statement.

_If you get killed, I’m not going to save you._

But this was a dream, wasn’t it? Kanda didn’t need to save him at all. If he died, he would just wake up to reality. But somehow there was a certain meaning in those words that he couldn’t really pinpoint.

Just for assurance, he plucked at the hair tie around his wrist, pulling it till it stretched nearly his body width.

A dream. Definitely.

He looked back at Kanda who now had another projection joining in the fight, and suddenly he felt a seizure of fear that Kanda would be overpowered. Again, it was a silly notion. Dying wasn’t a big deal here.

Anyway, Kanda seemed more in his natural element cutting and slicing his sword in precise movements, footwork flawless and fluid as he fought.

“ _Kaichu ichigen!_ ” he heard the other mutter, a small swarm of supernatural creatures engulfing his projections.

The blue light, that particular sword style.

Where _had_ he seen this before?

“Exorcist…”

Lavi blinked, suddenly aware that he had been too caught up in staring to notice his surroundings. He shifted nervously when four of those humanoid things were around him in a circle, all smirking creepily. God damn, Kanda really had some creepy imagination or something.

“Uh…hey, Yuu, it’s me,” he tried, biting his lip when one of the projections merely cackled.

“Exorcist!”

“Shit,” Lavi cursed, breathing heavily when one of them raised what looked like a machine gun at him. “YUU! YUU, YOUR PROJECTIONS KIND OF WANT TO KILL ME!”

Kanda whipped his head around when he heard the other shout his name in a panicky voice. Lavi was surrounded by four akumas—and the idiot didn’t even have a weapon.

“ _Chikuso_ ,” he swore, single handedly slashing the last akuma fighting him.

Without a thought Kanda gripped his sword tighter, heading towards the redhead. “ _Nigentou_ ,” he murmured lowly, flexing his left hand before he gripped the energy blade that formed at his fingertips.

Lavi’s face was pale like he knew death was inevitable, and now all of the akumas had their machine guns raised towards the poor boy. A chilling click was heard as the safeties of the guns were flicked off.

“Die,” one of them whispered, yet it was loud enough for Kanda to hear.

For a moment, he was so sure the idiot was going to get killed.

“ _Hakka_ _tourou_!” Kanda yelled, slashing the first one he reached in quick successions eight times, watching with a satisfying thud as the akuma fell to the ground.

All three machine guns turned on him, now.

“Lavi, get down!” he commanded, and the rest of the fight was a fast but hellish blur.

Lavi dropped to the ground immediately upon command, and Kanda wasted no time in twirling his double sword to create a clean cut across all three of the akuma’s necks just as the bullets were let fly. All bullets hit their target dead on, and Kanda gritted his teeth, clamping his jaw shut when he tasted blood in his mouth.

 _Shit_.

There was some sort of burning pain in his abdomen, and he stuck his sword on the ground, leaning on it heavily to balance the sudden wave of dizziness that struck him.

“…Yuu?” Lavi touched him on the shoulder gently, hands trembling. “Are you hurt?”

Kanda breathed heavily, spitting out blood that had clotted in his mouth.

“Yuu?”

The Japanese fisted his hand around the redhead’s collar and yanked him down to his level. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TRYING TO DO?” he screamed, not caring if his voice was slightly sore. “WHAT THE FUCKING HELL WERE YOU THINKING? DO YOU WANT TO DIE SO BADLY?”

_Do you want to die so badly?_

Why would Kanda ask him that? Dying wasn’t a big deal.

Yet he never feared for his life more than he did just now.

“I can’t fight!” he retorted lamely, hands clasped around the tightening grip on his jacket.

“THIS IS A GODDAMN _DREAM_ , YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU WANT YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” Kanda shouted right back at him furiously.

“Well…I…” Lavi cringed. “I…forgot…“

Kanda let of go of his grip and coughed another mouth of blood out onto the ground. “Fuck.”

Lavi was tugging at his totem again, because this wasn’t real.

It _wasn’t_ real.

“But Yuu—“

“We’re going back,” Kanda cut him off shortly, but his voice was shaky.

He only nodded wordlessly.

Seconds later Lavi opened his eyes and blinked, realizing he was staring at the ceiling of the dream shop. He immediately reach for his totem again, watching as the band stretched no further—when he saw Kanda gripping a set of prayer beads in his hands, muttering counts under his breath.

Kanda didn’t know why but his heart was hammering frantically in his chest, and his hands couldn’t stop shaking. He didn’t understand why he had shouted at Lavi, or actually even tried to save him at all. Even if his projections killed the redhead, it didn’t really matter right?

So why did it feel like it mattered?

It was as if he had seen it before.

Like he had done it before.

 _One. Two. Three. Four. Five._ He fingered the prayer beads he always wrapped around his wrist.

All the beads weighed heavier than each previous bead, but in dream verse the beads would weigh the same.

_Yuu._

 But even then, that fear he had felt was real.

* * *

“So you called them _akuma_ because they look like demons?” Lavi questioned, tapping his pencil on a blank page of his notebook.

Kanda shrugged, eyes not lifting from his book. “I just called them that from the beginning.”

It had been a week since their dream encounter, and neither of them had gone back to dream. It just felt _strange_ all of a sudden, like something was within their grasp but not at the same time. But neither could put in it words, yet they knew something had changed between them.

Lavi continued to pester the other about teaching him Japanese, and Kanda started to get used to the presence of the red head following him around. The daily routine felt kind of _familiar_ actually.

“Then why do they call us exorcists?” the red head asked, leaning back into his chair.

Kanda shrugged again, because he really needed to read his damn book for homework, and he didn’t really know why he was sitting at a table at the corner of the library with Lavi prodding him about his dream world.

“ _Ne_ , Yuu,” Lavi began again, this time in a voice uncharacteristically serious. “I have this theory that the 19th century Holy war was against demons. Because it’s said that the enemy had dark supernatural powers, and it only makes sense if it really _was_ a war with the supernatural.”

“I don’t care,” Kanda rolled his eyes, sighing. “Now, _damatte.”_

Lavi pouted, stretching his arms on the table. “You said you’d help me!” he whined. “Please, Yuu! If you don’t want to teach me any more than a few insults in Japanese then help me translate the texts!”

Kanda shut his book with a loud snap, grumbling, aggravated. “Fine,” he placed the book down, facing the other. “Ten minutes. That’s all.”

One day he would wonder why he was suddenly being so helpful to the idiot, but Lavi excitedly pushed a stack of old brown papers in front of him.

“This,” Lavi grinned, unable to keep the happiness out of his expression. “You can start with the first one! Or any one! I don’t mind!”

Kanda raised an eyebrow, taking the first piece of paper written in his mother tongue and read it silently. It had been quite a while since he actually saw anything written in Japanese—it was extremely rare to find any outside of the mother nation itself. His eyes skimmed over the familiar characters, message unfolding in his mind.

“Well?” Lavi demanded, oddly serious and expectant. “You can write it out on paper, if that’s easier for y—“

“What kind of stupid sick joke is this?” Kanda slammed the paper down, glaring at the other with the most annoyed expression he saw yet.

“But Yuu—“

“Do not call me by my first name,” he growled.

“Y—Kanda. Okay,” Lavi relented, seeing that the other was not joking. “What do you mean by sick joke? I just want to know what’s written there!”

“Like you don’t know,” Kanda snarled back, hands shaking with anger. His face was slightly flushed red, but his eyes seemed the least amused of all as it glared hatefully at the other. “I’m leaving, and you better not try some shit like this again.”

“What?” Lavi yelped, lunging forwards to make sure the other didn’t stand up and leave. “Yuu! I swear to God I’m not doing some _shit_ as you call it! I’m serious!”

“Don’t you dare fucking _touch_ me—“

“Please, Yuu,” the red head begged, gripping the other’s arm in desperation. “You’re the only one who can understand the language and I really want to know what all that is saying!”

Kanda sat, lips pressed into a displeased frown. Well, it was true that Lavi couldn’t have written something like this, because the red head definitely couldn’t have hid the fact that he was fluent in Japanese for so long. Moreover these texts were written in flawless Japanese…and they looked authentically old to boot.

But the name at the bottom of the page…

“Yuu, come on, what did the text say?”

“It’s a fucking letter,” Kanda grounded out finally, grumbling. “It’s not some stupid record of history or whatever hell you were looking for.”

“Okay,” Lavi nodded. “But letters hold a lot of information as well—“

“It’s a fucking _love_ letter,” Kanda corrected.

The red head paused. “That interesting…” he swallowed, not expecting that. “So, what does it say?”

“I am not translating that to you,” the Japanese immediately refused, and Lavi swore the other actually _blushed_.

“A summary then?” he prodded, curiosity flaring even greater. “I’ll stop using your first name for a week,” he bargained.

“Forever.”

“A month,” he tried again. “Yuu~ Pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee—“

Kanda ground his teeth together in frustration. “You…it says… that you…you...” then he almost ripped the paper in his hands but Lavi snatched it out of his grip quickly.

“I?” Lavi paused, tilting his head and staring at the unknown characters.

“Tch,” the Japanese growled more to himself, closing his eyes exasperatedly. “Not you, but—“

“Let’s start from the beginning, hmm?” the red head decided, pointing to the first character on the page since they were getting no where. “What’s this?”

“Dear…” Kanda spoke, then he breathed out heavily. “Y-yuu…chan.”

“Yuu…chan?” Lavi repeated. “Isn’t that your name? But what does _chan_ mea—“

“Don’t you fucking dare interrupt me,” Kanda hissed lowly.

“Right,” the other coughed nervously. “Go on.”

“Dear Yuu-chan,” Kanda repeated with more force, “How has it been back at the Order? Being on this insanely long mission hurts me so much, because I haven’t seen your…” he visibly cringed, “…b-beautiful face in so many months. I’m so sorry that I’m away during your birthday, and this place doesn’t have any reception so I can’t connect back to you either. I promise I will make it up to you. But perhaps you might receive this letter after I come back though, since the mail is practically non-existent here…” Kanda paused, grimacing at the next line pouring out of his mouth. “I wrote this so that I won’t go crazy thinking about you.”

Lavi only listened attentively.

“Two more months to ago,” Kanda continued, eyes trained on the last sentence. “I..I..l-love you as always,” and finally, the last two characters at the bottom. “Rabi.”

“Rabi?” Lavi repeated.

_Rabi._

Why did that sound so familiar?

Kanda turned away, unable to stop the strange heat that kept rushing to his face. So what if that was his name at the top and it was signed off by _Rabi_? When he first read it he honestly thought it had to be some kind of joke played by the redhead. _Rabi_ was _Lavi_ written in his mother tongue. If Lavi thought he was being funny by trying to confess through a love letter than Kanda would have no qualms decking the guy either.

But fact was already established that Lavi couldn’t have been the one to write all that.

So who was it?

“Fuck this shit,” Kanda muttered, standing up quickly and striding away.

Lavi only let the letter fall carelessly to the floor when his grip went slack.

* * *

“Yuu-chan,” Lavi whispered, rolling about on his bed. “Yuu. Yuu-chan.”

He had been tossing and turning for about five hours now, and he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. He couldn’t. Something was just distracting him so _badly_.

Kanda Yuu.

Lavi knew he knew him. He knew Kanda Yuu. He definitely did. He knew him way before he saw him at the dream shop. There was no other explanation to the eerie déjà vu feeling that he kept experiencing when he was looking at the other—and sometimes he would find himself inexplicitly drawn towards the other, wanting to touch or to feel, as though it was a source of familiar comfort.

And also Kanda’s dream world that kept swirling in his head.

He had seen that badge and uniform somewhere before.  And also the silhouette of Kanda fighting these said _akumas_ —he was so sure he had heard the term from somewhere too.

The letter that Kanda read out to him was also mystery.

Those letters definitely dated back to the 19th century war that much he knew. So that meant that had to be someone by the name of _Yuu-chan_ and _Rabi_ surviving in that war. It was just too much of a coincidence that those names sounded almost like his and Kanda’s.

Unconsciously he pulled at his totem again.

He wasn’t dreaming right?

So why did reality feel so _weird_?

* * *

“Yuu,” Lavi gripped his wrist breathlessly when he finally caught up with the other. “I want you to dream with me. One more time,” the red head stated quickly. “I want to show you something.”

Kanda eyed the hand on him. It was trembling slightly, and then he noticed Lavi was biting his lip nervously whilst looking the most grave and sullen he’d ever seen.

“Like what?” he asked back, trying to tug his hand back.

The skin to skin contact from the red head had triggered some sort of electric jolt down his spine, and he didn’t really comfortable all of a sudden.

“I…I don’t know how to explain it,” Lavi held on tighter, more determined. “Please.”

Without realizing Kanda had nodded his head, and then found himself being quickly dragged towards the dream shop.

He was curious too. After the last dream session with the red head, the strange churning in his chest hadn’t settled. It was like he knew it was all the red head’s fault, his fault that he couldn’t understand why he had said some things that seemed to exit his mouth before he fully thought of actually saying them. Or why he actually went to _protect_ the other—it had been all pure instinct.

The last straw was reading that stupid goddamn letter.

When he was reading it, it felt like it had been addressed to specifically _him_ , but that was a stupid notion because it was just an old letter from the past written by someone who was dead and gone to someone who was dead and gone.

 _Rabi_.

That word rolled off his tongue more fluently than anything. It was like he had said it before many times.

“Ra—Lavi,” he caught himself saying, frowning at the IV in his hand as they positioned to get into dream verse one more time together. “There’s something fucking weird—“

“I know,” Lavi cut him off, taking a deep breath. “That’s why we’re doing this. I want to sort this out.”

“And you think it has to do with my dream?”

“Yes,” he answered seriously. “I think—I _know_ it does.”

They both awoke to the same battle field as they did the last time, clad in the same uniforms as well. Lavi scrutinized the other who just looked so at home here, like he blended well into this verse, like he _belonged_ here. The uniform just looked right, as well as that sword in his hand. His hair tied up in a sharp ponytail at the back on his head, leaving his front bangs framing his delicate face.

“What did you plan to do?” Kanda asked.

Lavi just shrugged, because he didn’t plan anything. He just knew that by being here, he could get some answers.

“Tch,” the Japanese grunted in annoyance, starting to walk in some random direction. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?” The red head asked, quickly following the other’s steps.

“Akuma will swarm the area if we stay still,” Kanda explained, keeping a careful look out. “The innocence is nearby.”

“…Innocence?” Lavi frowned. “What’s that?”

“I—“ Kanda paused in his step, realizing he didn’t even know that he said that word. Indeed, what _was_ innocence?

The redhead was only looking back silently at him, like the gears in the other’s head was slowly clicking pieces of the puzzle together.

Without another word, they walked on again.

“What’s this?” Lavi rubbed a sort of holder attached to the side of his pants as they walked, pulling out a small hammer. “Small hammer, big hammer,” he murmured under his breath, holding it up to inspect.

Kanda looked strangely at him for a second, but didn’t choose to comment.

“Get down,” the Japanese suddenly said, hand on the hilt of his sword. “ _Hayaku_!”

“Exorcistsssss….” A low whisper was heard somewhere, and they spotted a snake like creature creeping towards them.

Kanda unsheathed his sword, muttering the usual words as his sword glowed blue, and he wielded it dangerously in front of him. “Damn akuma,” he muttered, quickly disposing of the projection in a second.

“Well, that was a pretty weak level one,” Lavi commented from the side before he paused.

_Level one?_

Where the hell did that come from?

Grimly, Lavi met Kanda’s equally confused eyes. “ _Ano saa_ …” he swallowed uncomfortably. “What if…what if this isn’t a dream?”

That thought had crossed his mind a million times by now, and saying it out loud now suddenly sounded stupid.

Of course this was a dream. His totem was stretching.

“….What did you say?” Kanda whispered, like something struck him.

“What if this isn’t a dream?”

“No, before that.”

Lavi furrowed his eyebrows. “A…Ano…sa?”

“That’s _nihongo_ _bakayarou_!” Kanda suddenly kicked at him. “Did you goddamn lie to me or something?”

“What’s _nihongo_?” he asked back blankly. The _bakayarou_ part he understood well, since Kanda had been calling him that many times already.

The Japanese gritted his teeth in frustration, unsheathing his sword. “Fuck. You really don’t understand it,” he was muttering to himself, running his hand through his ponytail. “Goddammit, this is so fucking _weird_ ,” he was ranting to himself. “I feel like I _know_ you—except I fucking don’t!”

“Ne Yuu,” Lavi tried again. “What if this _isn’t_ a dream?”

“ _Atarimae da, baka_ ,” Kanda snapped at him. “This is my dream. _I_ made this world.”

“But it feels… _right_? Right?” the redhead stated seriously. “You just said you feel like you know me, and _I_ feel like I know you, except we don’t,” he continued on. “And we’ve both been saying things that we know we wouldn’t say normally. It’s like this has happened before,” Lavi concluded. “Do you feel it, Yuu?” he asked, voice almost bordering on desperation. “What if…this is real? This _was_ real?”

“What are you trying to get at?” Kanda just stared at him.

“The Holy war of the 19th century,” Lavi replied immediately. “You’ve never been in my dreams, have you? But the world you dream is similar to mine. I’ve been creating that world since forever—and I don’t even know why now…” he trailed off. “Anyway, _this_ —your— _our_ world—is the perfect setting for that war. You fight with a supernatural sword against demons, and that was exactly as the texts were saying. They were being literal about special powers and—“

“There’s no fucking way these _akumas_ could’ve existed,” Kanda retorted.

“Why not, Yuu?” Lavi challenged. “Is there any proof that they couldn’t have existed? If the _Noahs_ could manipulate human souls as they say, then these souls could have transformed into slave demons doing their will. And to stop a force like that, the Destroyer of Time would have to—“

“Moyashi.”

The redhead stared, stunned. “ _What_?” he asked hoarsely. “What did you say?”

Kanda gripped his head. “I-I don’t know what I fucking said!” he growled, irritation prickling his skin like no other. “What the fuck is happening?”

 _Moyashi_.

White hair. Gray eyes. Red pentacle scar.

Fifteen year old boy.

Destroyer of Time.

“Yuu,” Lavi started again hurriedly. “Yuu. This isn’t a dream. This _isn’t_ a dream—“ he muttered frantically, gripping Kanda’s uniform tightly. “This isn’t a dream!”

“If this isn’t a dream then what the fucking hell is this?” Kanda yelled back, his hands shaking with some sort of unknown emotion.

He was confused as hell as to where the other was going with this, and it certainly wasn’t answering any of the questions his mind.

“Ah, two exorcists left.”

A deep low voice interrupted their conversation. A dark skinned man wearing a suit and a top hat was waving casually at them both, a line of crosses on his forehead. “Evening,” the man smirked, walking closer to them both.

Kanda frowned because he couldn’t remember ever meeting an akuma like this one, and for some reason this akuma felt a lot more dangerous than anything else he had fought before.

“Tyki Mikk,” Lavi hissed, eye narrowing, gripping Kanda’s arm tightly, shoving the raven to stand behind him.

“What the hell are you doing?” Kanda demanded, trying to shove Lavi back instead. “I’m the one who can fight—you stay out of trouble.”

“This is a _Noah_ , Yuu,” the red head resisted, firmly keeping the other behind him. “He’s not like the creatures you’ve battled.”

“I don’t care if he’s a Noah or a fucking akuma, he’s still one of my projections and I’m going to goddamn kill it before it kills us!” the Japanese growled.

“How charming,” Tyki—or whatever Lavi had called it—grinned, sauntering closer. “Protecting him isn’t going to prolong his life, Bookman.”

“Stay away,” Lavi warned, but the Noah paid him no heed.

“La—“ Kanda started, but was dumbfounded when the redhead dashed forwards towards his projection.“What the fuck is that idiot doing?”

“Grow! Grow! Grow!” Lavi was shouting, raising the tiny hammer he had in his hands and the said object ballooned to at least fifty times its original size.

“What the fuck—“

Kanda could only stare on in incredulity as the red head slammed the now large head of the hammer on the enemy, like Lavi actually _knew_ how to wield the odd weapon.

“Stop phasing through my attacks you coward!” Lavi shouted, raising his hammer again and aiming toward where the Noah had suddenly appeared, like he was teleporting.

“Then try to actually hit me,” the Noah countered coolly, dodging a swipe aimed for his head.

Kanda watched quietly as the two traded blows before him.

Somehow this seemed very familiar, like he had seen that dark skinned man somewhere before, and even those little butterflies floating somewhere behind. He also vaguely remembered the white and black tone of Lavi’s hammer that kept growing in size. He wondered why that crop of stark red hair suddenly seemed to stand out against the dark night only illuminated by the moon, as though his eyes were drawn to that very colour.

Then he heard a dark chuckle right at the base of his ear and he froze when he saw the enemy Lavi was supposedly battling right in front of his vision, smirking.

With reflex, he drew his sword but Mugen only passed through the body of his projection like it wasn’t even there.

“Hmm…” Tyki taunted, a dark grin on his lips. “Seems like it’s your unlucky day,” he leered, not before running his hand through the stomach of the exorcist.

“Y—yuu—“

Kanda had shut his eyes involuntarily as he felt a hole being ripped into his abdomen, but he shakily opened his eyes when he heard Lavi’s familiar voice breathing down his neck.

“Y-yuu-chan…” Lavi tried to smile as much as he was in pain, bloodied hand shakily grasping his shoulder.

“ _Usagi_ ,” he managed back, an uncomfortable feeling lodged in his throat when he realised the idiot had flung himself in front of him before the Noah stabbed through _both_ of them. “W-what are you doing?” he demanded, his own hands trembling violently—and he couldn’t stop the sinking feeling in his gut from getting stronger.

“But it’s…Yuu…I couldn’t…” Lavi managed weakly as both of them collapsed on the ground, legs unable to support them anymore.

“I can regenerate you fucktard!” Kanda yelled, then coughed when he felt blood arising to his mouth.

“This is a dream, remember?” Lavi replied back almost humorlessly. “So what if you can r-regenerate?”

“I-I..” Kanda cursed. He didn’t mean to say that.

He didn’t mean to say that at all. Why did he say that?

“Usagi…” he tried again, voice getting weaker as his vision started to blur.

“Yuu…” Lavi whispered back just as quietly. “Do you remember?”

 _What_ was he supposed to remember?

The redness of Lavi’s hair held up but a strikingly green bandana? But where was this said bandana?

Or maybe that blinding wide smile that always greeted him when he came back from a mission, back to the headquarters of the Black Order? What mission? And what was the Black Order?

Or maybe the scent of musky wood and ink and paper that was so _Lavi_ —because he had it engraved in his mind every time they—

“This isn’t a dream.”

“Yes it is,” Kanda didn’t know why he was insisting so adamantly, hands blinding groping for his totem. “Any moment now, you’re going to wake up, and I’m going to strangle the hell out of you. This is just a dream. This is my dream,” he repeated, rubbing the beads on his wrists in his hand. “Your totem, where’s your—“

“No, listen to me, Yuu,” Lavi rest his hand over his, gripping it tightly despite the blood. “This isn’t a dream. We’ve done this before.”

“Lavi…”

“We’ve been through _this_ before,” Lavi continued, resting his head on Kanda’s shoulder as his breathing got shallower. “I still love you, you know,” he said, voice strong despite the obvious weakening in his body state. “Then…now…forever.”

“Lavi… _Rabi_ …”

“Mmm…that’s my Yuu-chan.”

All Kanda could feel was blood.

All he could see was blood.

And it was

Red.

* * *

“LAVI!”

He had never screamed anyone’s name so desperately before, but he found himself still screaming when he woke up.

Sweat was pouring right down his back and it felt so hot, so stuffy—and he couldn’t breathe properly. Slowly his vision was focusing back into place, and Marie’s concerned face was hovering above him, quickly making work of the IV still attached to him arm.

His hand immediately reached for his totem—he wrapped the prayer beads from his hand, letting the string of beads slide across his palm for assurance.

He counted them.

Over and over and over and over again.

He counted them and felt them and made sure that he wasn’t fucking _dreaming_ anymore, because he didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t.

He was fucking Kanda Yuu, son of a mafia boss back in Japan, yet he was also an experiment of the Vatican church in the 19th century. He killed people in his childhood, much like how he killed his best friend in the 19th century. There were so many things that he _was_ and he didn’t know what he wasn’t.

He was the accommodator of Mugen, he was a soldier of the Holy war, he was a comrade of the Destroyer of Time.

He was also the lover of a stupid smartmouthed red haired idiot.

“Yuu.”

Shakily, he glanced towards his right where by right Lavi should be lying on the chair—because they had been _dreaming_ , it wasn’t real—and he didn’t trust himself to believe that it was really Lavi— _his_ Lavi staring back at him.

“I’ve missed you,” Lavi’s voice was cracked with emotion, as he pushed himself off the chair, ripping the IV out. “So damn much.”

Marie retreated quietly when the normally rough Japanese man made a grab for the other like his life line depended on it.

“ _Rabi_ …” Kanda murmured, hands gripping the other’s back as they embraced tightly, never wanting to let go. “ _Ore wa…boku wa…”_

“ _Shitteru yo, Yuu_ ,” Lavi whispered into his ear, quietly, just as they used to—in the past. _“Aishiteru.”_


End file.
